


the comic sans theory

by orphan_account



Category: Fushigi Yuugi
Genre: F/M, Miaka is an alien, pseudo sci-fi AU with a silly premise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 08:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18847357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which the Emperor of Konan develops a fondness for the Comic Sans font.[A pseudo-sci-fi AU.]





	the comic sans theory

All things considered, Hotohori did not need the laptop at all. He had a cadre of professionals who could write absolutely anything he needed, in his voice, no less. It was the privilege of being Emperor, they said.

But here he was, facing down a blank screen like the monster it was, his face all but turned green in an attempt to will the words to write themselves - or rather, type themselves onto the screen. Calligraphy was definitely the better option for this occasion, but ink was scarce these days.

This was dumb. The Son of Heaven, defeated by simple letter-writing. He’d accomplished so many reports and documents before, how could this be any difficult?

Still, he insisted on doing this on his own. What good it would be if he couldn’t do this himself? He’d hardly call himself a man if he couldn’t.

Ah, but this is definitely hopeless, a part of his mind nagged him. He was tempted to believe it.

_Suzaku, give me strength!..._

“What are you mumbling about, Hotohori?”

He closed the laptop a bit more forcefully than usual. “W-What is it, Miaka?” The Priestess of Suzaku appeared Human today, choosing to tie her brown hair in perky twintails. The one time Hotohori saw her shapeshift freaked him out for twenty-four hours and counting.

She claimed she was a Martian. He couldn’t care less if she was a Jovian or a slimy blob; she was the Priestess of Legend who would save his Empire from destruction, and that’s that.

Also, he’s but the age of a high school senior. He deserved to be cut some slack.

“Oh, computers,” Miaka curiously scrutinized the laptop. “We used to have these, but they’re too slow, yeah? I’m really bad with technology, though.” She grinned at him sheepishly. “Maybe Yui could help you with it someday. I wish she were still around.”

Hotohori winced. Miaka’s mood always plummeted whenever her best friend Yui is mentioned. His intelligence team has already gathered leads of where the other lady might be, and Miaka will not like it.

That, he decided, would be for later.

“It’s okay, Miaka,” he reassured the Priestess, re-opening the laptop. The blank screen stared back at them, the cursor mockingly blinking at the top-left corner. “The laptop is fine. I need help writing a letter, actually.”

“A communication line?” Miaka asked. “Why not just call?”

“Because,” Hotohori exclaimed suddenly, before sucking in a breath, “... this is important.”

Miaka tapped a finger to her chin. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at, but okay, I guess. If I understand correctly, you don’t know what to write, yeah?”

Hotohori nodded. It fell very, very short of giving his intentions away. Not today, he resolved.

Silence filled the room as Miaka considered the situation carefully. Hotohori felt his cheeks burn up as she paced behind him, her clothes ever so slightly brushing his arm.

Not today, he repeated to himself.

“You know, I might have just the thing,” Miaka said after a while. She hovered her slender fingers over the touchpad and adjusted the settings. “There. Try typing something.”

Miaka claimed she was bad at computers, but her hands definitely moved faster than Hotohori could even follow. Aliens really are something else. Putting away this side-comment from his mind, he silently did as he was told.

The word “HELLO” was spelled out. Hotohori’s mouth twitched. “Comic Sans?”

“Yup!” Miaka nodded enthusiastically. “Whenever I start a draft of a report, I type using Comic Sans. I find the words flow faster that way. It’s like a magic spell!”

Hotohori felt inclined to retort that “magic didn’t exist” or something to that effect, but Miaka’s mere existence disproved that. Up until a few weeks ago, he didn’t even believe Suzaku was real. It was only when she appeared before the capital city bathed in red light that he started reading up on all the folk tales his nanny used to tell him.

Again, he was only the age of a high school senior. He deserved to be cut some slack.

Also, he was Emperor of Konan. He couldn’t afford to be cut some slack.

Meanwhile, Miaka seemed like she was zooming in her vision to his face. She had human eyes right now, but he knew she had that ability; she told him as much. It made him feel more nervous than ever.

He retyped the word “Hello,” this time in sentence case. He found his fingers naturally flying over the keys with ease, and before he knew it, he had typed a whole paragraph in a few minutes.

“I-It actually works,” he whispered in disbelief. “Miaka, how do you know these things?”

“Yui found this old article once. They found in this one study that Comic Sans is actually more friendly to the eyes than other fonts, particularly to dyslexic beings. It helped me accomplish many reports before. I swear I couldn’t have come this far without Yui’s advice.” Miaka beamed proudly. “Glad it helped!”

_Suzaku, she is beautiful._

Hotohori settled for a small, sincere smile. “You have my thanks, Miaka. I can now finish this letter because of you.”

“No problem!” Miaka made a peace sign and skipped towards the door. “I’ll be dropping by the city with Tamahome and Nuriko this afternoon. Maybe see if we can find more warriors?” She grinned determinedly. “We will summon Suzaku, I promise!”

He nodded gratefully. She really is the Priestess of Legend.

They both waved goodbye, and Hotohori was left alone once more. He shifted tabs to a blank one he had been hiding since Miaka arrived. It was mostly empty, save for two words: “Dear Miaka.”

Hotohori smiled fondly. Not today, but soon.

“I love you.”


End file.
